


Memories of Me & You

by Lightlions



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, M/M, Married Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Memory Loss, Minor Injuries, POV Baz, POV Simon, Sickfic, SnowBaz, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:47:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23731834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightlions/pseuds/Lightlions
Summary: After a nasty fall, Simon wakes in a hospital bed, with a frantic Baz trying to convince him they are married. The only Baz he can remember is the one who would love to see him hurt, not one who spend days at worrying over his bedside.Baz -Simon Snow doesn’t love me.I have been waiting for this day to happen, since the moment he first shoved his hands in my hair and kissed me.“You don’t have finals! You aren’t a student!” I'm screaming. I should stop, there is no way this is actually helping. I keep going. “You’re 26, you own a cafe! You’re not my roommate!” I backtrack, stuttering out the words, “I-I mean you are. But not-not just my-I mean, you’re my husband.” I can’t help it, I say it again. “You’re my husband.” It comes out less like a statement, and more like I am begging.Simon is staring at me, eyes wide.
Relationships: Snowbaz - Relationship, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 16
Kudos: 119





	Memories of Me & You

**Author's Note:**

> Switches between Simon and Baz's POV. I don't have an official number of chapters planned, but as of right now probably 3-4. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading :)

**Baz**

He was reaching for me when he fell.

There were still traces of a smile on his face- he had been laughing seconds before. Full Simon Snow laughs, deep and unashamed, not caring how they bounced off the walls and echoed through the whole rink. I don’t remember what had been so funny. Probably nothing at all. It’s like that though. When we are together, everything is so much  _ more. _ Funnier, brighter, bigger. Just  _ more. _

He was going fast. Really fast. He’s not a good skater, neither of us are. I took lessons as a child, so I’m at least steadier. Simon tends not to care about things like that, he just takes off full force. Maybe that’s what we were laughing at. 

He was skating fast, and I was getting tired. Sometimes he has so much energy, it seems like the more he uses the more he has. I was skating slowly, Simon clumsily whipping around as he passed me lap after lap. Every time he passed he would laugh harder, and I would watch the way his curls bounced. 

He was just out of my reach when he tripped. Speeding towards me, had he tripped a second later I might have been able to catch him. A second too soon. His eyes got big and he reached out a hand, his head hitting the ice before I could even reach for him. 

**Simon**

Baz Pitch shoved me down the stairs in 5th year. I almost died. I could have split my head open. Maybe that’s why it’s the first thing I think of when I wake up, Baz’s face after I started tumbling. He looked so surprised, if I hadn’t known better I might have mistook his expression for real fear over my wellbeing. 

It’s the same face he is making when I open my eyes. Something about him looks off, but I don’t put it together right away. His eyes are red, like he had been crying. Imagine it, Baz Pitch, standing over my bed and crying. Even the thought is ridiculous. 

His hair is tied up, sloppily, but still up. I’m not used to seeing it up, only when he plays football. Even then it stays neat. Not like this, with pieces falling out around his face. It makes me feel funny, but I’m too disoriented to think hard about it. 

“Hey,” he says softly. 

“What?” I try to ask, but it comes out as a croak. My throat is dry and the world around me is spinning. 

“Here,” Baz says, still using the softest voice I have ever heard him use. Why is he here? He pushes a paper water cup in my hand. I take it, only because I don’t know what else to do. 

He opens his mouth, probably to say something else in his new weirdly soft voice. He never gets the chance, because a very loud voice beats him to it.

“HE’S AWAKE! Oh, thank God!” Penny shoves past Baz and stares at me intently. Her hair is wild as always, but significantly more pink than the last time I saw her. Is that even allowed at Watford? I suppose if anyone could get away with it, it would be her.

“Simon, Simon, oh my god Simon!” She says more, but I don’t understand any of it. The lights in the room are really, really bright. 

“Hey,” Baz says, soft again. He nudges Penny out of the way, and my mouth drops open when she lets him. 

“It’s okay,” Baz says, “drink.” He pushes my hand with the water cup up to my mouth, and I swallow some. Before long I am gulping it, suddenly aware of how thirsty I am. He takes it from my hand when it’s empty, and before I can say anything is refilling it and handing it back. 

Penny is still talking. She’s saying things at me, but I don’t think she is expecting me to listen. At least, I hope not. 

Baz interrupts her, nudging her gently with his elbow and says something about finding a nurse. A hospital. I’m in a hospital. Penny nods quickly and disappears. I wish she hadn’t left me, now I’m confused in a hospital with Baz, who if I had to bet, is probably the reason I'm here.

Baz reaches a hand out, and I freeze. At first I think he’s going for my water (it’s empty again), but he goes to my face instead, cupping a hand on my jaw and stroking his thumb over my cheek. 

Whatever game he is playing, it is absolutely not working. He almost had me for a moment, everything about him is so  _ soft. _ But I’m not an idiot. I don’t know what sort of a con this is, but it’s definitely one. 

“What the bloody hell?!” Without realizing it, my cup goes flying. That was more dramatic than I intended, but just as well. 

Baz looks startled and flinches backward, but he composes himself quickly. He pulls his hand from my cheek and puts it over one of my hands. It feels nice. I like his hand there. Or I would. If he wasn’t, you know, Baz. “You’ve been out for a while,” he says, speaking carefully. 

I pull my hand out of his reach, surprised at how hard it is to do. I like his hand there. This stops him mid-sentence, and he looks, well, lost. That makes two of us.

“Almost a whole week!” Penny interrupts, pushing past Baz again. She appears with a nurse in-tow, who immediately begins fiddling with some of the equipment I’ve just realized are attached to me. 

“It was nuts!” Penny continues, “we were all so worried.” Her voice goes quiet at the end, and I’m suddenly very uncomfortable. 

“Sorry.” I manage, softer than I meant it be. 

Penny rolls her eyes immediately and somehow it’s comforting. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.” Then she stops herself. “Well,” she amends, “it sort of is.” It’s said with a light smile, and even though I have no idea what she’s talking about, I can tell she isn’t serious.

“No it’s not.” Baz clearly doesn’t find any humor in the situation, as he stiffens up and crosses his arms. “It’s not at all. You didn’t do anything wrong, I should have-”

“Not this again!” Penny moans, cutting him off. “God Simon, you should have seen him. He’s been insufferable, for the whole week!” She says it as if Baz is ever not completely insufferable. Why Penny would choose to spend the whole week with him is beyond me. 

“I have not!” Baz protests, "I was _ worried _ !” He looks back at me again, his eyes wide. “I was so scared,” He says this part like a whisper, like he really means it. I almost believe him.

But he is Baz Pitch, and I doubt he has ever been honestly scared in his life. 

“Sure,” I snort, sitting up a little more. I’m feeling less dizzy and things are starting to piece together. A hospital room, Penny and Baz. Baz acting like he gives a damn, probably plotting my demise. “Why would you be worried?” 

Baz steps closer, and he gently takes my hand again. Is this some new thing with him? Hand grabbing? It’s weird, but so is everything else about him. I let it slide; it’s not the worst thing he’s ever done.

“You fell, and hit your head hard. You’ve been in the hospital for a few days. I know this must be confusing.” He’s talking slow, but not in that irritating way he does when he wants me to feel dumb. He’s saying it almost like he’s trying to figure it out with me.

“I fell,” I repeat after him, dumbly. 

Baz nods. “Yeah, we were, uh, ice skating.”

I can feel both my eyebrows raise. “We were ice skating?” It seems unlikely, but it was probably part of some school event, Watford trying to make its stuck-up students participate in the real world or something. 

“Yeah.”

“Did you push me?” I ask the question before I really think it through, but it does seem like the natural thing to ask.

Baz’s eyes get wide and he drops my hand, his jaw dropping open in surprise. “N-no,” he stutters out, “of course not.” He looks on the verge of tears - I’ve never seen him like this. “I tried to catch you,” he says, his voice breaking. 

I scrunch my nose at this. “Why?”

The question takes him back, and he looks at me like I’m the one acting strange. “Why?” He repeats the question, and I nod. Baz has always had it out for me. I’m not sure what he’s playing at, but I won’t let him get away with it. 

“Why would you want to catch me?” I demand again, as forcefully as I can manage.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt?” He says it like it’s obvious. 

“Why?” I demand again.

“I love you.” He says this like a fact, with no reservations, tilting his head at the end like he wants to know why I didn’t think of this. Like it should have been obvious. 

I turn to look at Penny, waiting for her to say something. To call Baz out. To demand answers on my behalf. She doesn’t. She just looks at me, her eyes squinting slightly, the way they do when she is thinking.

“Whatever you’re doing, stop it.” I sound angrier than I mean to, but I don't regret it. Baz’s eyes are burning into me. No one has ever said that to me. Penny tells me she loves me all the time, and so do her parents. But it’s not like that. Not like how Baz said it. No one has said it to me like  _ that _ and Baz must know this. He’s teasing me, and it isn’t funny.

I see something click in Penny’s eyes, and she latches onto Baz’s arm before he can react. The nurse has stopped whatever she was doing, and is looking at me carefully.

“Simon-” Penny starts, but the nurse speaks first. She leans over me, placing a hand on mine, staring at me with warm brown eyes. My shoulders immediately relax, and I try not to pay attention to the way Penny and Baz have visibly stiffened beside me.

“Simon,” she says softly, “my name is Ebeneza.”

I try to repeat her name, and it gets tangled in my mouth. My headache is back.

“You can call me Ebb.” I nod, and she continues. “I’m a nurse at St. Thomas’s Hospital. Do you know what your last name is?”

“Snow.”

She smiles. “Yes. Do you know who this is?”

She points to Penny, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course I do. “Penny,” I say. 

She smiles again, “how do you know Penny?”

“She’s my best friend; we go to the same school.”

Ebb’s smile falters, but she continues. “And who is this?” She points to Baz.

“Pitch.” I say, “Baz Pitch.” 

“And how do you know Baz?” 

I clench my jaw. Baz is staring at me, his skin grey under the fluorescent lights. I want to say something snappy, about him being my arch-enemy and all, but the nurse seems nice and probably doesn’t want to hear about that, so I settle for, “Baz is my roommate.” It’s the least offensive thing I can think to call him. “I don’t like him.” I add quickly, only because I can’t resist.

Ebb’s smile is gone. “What school do you go to?” She asks.

“Watford.”

“What year are you?”

“I just started seventh.” 

She forces a smile, and turns to Penny and Baz. “I’m going to get a doctor. I’ll be right back.”

**Baz**

Simon Snow doesn’t love me.

I have been waiting for this day to happen, since the moment he first shoved his hands in my hair and kissed me. 

This was going to happen, eventually. How had I forgotten?

When we first together, our last year of school, the days were filled with endless sunshine. I was happy in a way I thought impossible. Everything was warm, everything was bright, everything was him. Then in the evening, back in our room, he would fall asleep in his bed, and I would go to mine. Wrapped up in blankets, shivering, with the taste of him in my mouth, I couldn’t stop the worry. It was everything I had ever hoped for; there was no possible way it would end well. I remember entire nights wondering if maybe it already wasn’t going well, wondering if maybe Simon was already losing interest. I would spend hours laying, worrying, scheming. Wracking my brain for a solution. Anything I could do, anything at all, to make things work, to keep him. It was all I had ever wanted.

We had been together for months when I told him. I didn’t mean to, it slipped out. His head was on my shoulder, his fingers tangled in mine. We had been like this for a while, sitting in silence on the floor after I had stopped the horror flick we had tried watching on my laptop, because Simon was too jumpy. 

“You aren’t afraid of anything,” he said, breaking the comfortable quiet that had surrounded us. 

“I’m afraid of losing you.” I said, without thinking. After that, everything else flooded out. 

I was surprised he didn’t try to argue or convince me I was wrong. I was almost disappointed- I guess I had wanted him to reassure me, even though I wouldn’t have believed him. But that night he didn’t go to his side of the room. He didn’t say anything, just curled under the covers of my bed, linking his feet through my legs. I didn’t worry that night; it’s hard to be scared with him pressed so close to me. He never slept in his own bed again. 

A doctor comes in, then another, then another. Everything is moving, except for Simon. He is responding slowly, and I can tell he’s slightly annoyed at all the questions. His brow is furrowed together and he takes long blinks so no one notices his eye rolls. Once a question is asked, he answers. Wrong. He answers it wrong. He would be right, if it were 9 years ago.

The doctors keep asking questions. Question after question, nodding like what he’s saying makes sense, writing it all down, without even hinting to him that something is off.

Finally, I can’t stand it. I’m sleep deprived and hungry, but most of all, I’m just scared.

“No!” I say sharply. Simon has just finished explaining to one of the countless doctors that he has exams soon and needs to get back to class.

He turns his head and looks at me, surprised. Everyone in the room does. I should wait, let the doctors do whatever they are doing. I don’t. 

“You don’t have finals! You aren’t a student!” I should stop, there is no way this is actually helping. I keep going. “You’re 26, you own a cafe! You’re not my roommate!” I backtrack, stuttering out the words, “I-I mean you are. But not-not just my-I mean, you’re my husband.” I can’t help it, I say it again. “You’re my husband.” It comes out less like a statement, and more like I am begging. 

Simon is staring at me, eyes wide. 

The nurse- Ebb, I think -gently leads me out of the room, and I follow numbly. 

She has no answers, she tells me, but the doctors might in the morning. She takes both my hands and firmly tells me to go home, to sleep in a real bed. She doesn’t let me argue, I try, but she insists I wouldn’t be able to see Simon for a while anyways, promises to call if anything changes.

Penny drives me home, quiet. 

I haven’t slept in days, but I lay awake all night. Awake, alone in a bed that still smells like Simon.


End file.
